


2:30 AM

by Xiiee



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: I Don't Even Know, M/M, cryptids in the woods, hints of horror, its been ages since i wrote anything, jesse didnt listen to what his mama said, mama is not proud jesse, spoopy stuff i guess? ish, with mentions of Genji
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-10
Updated: 2017-12-14
Packaged: 2019-01-15 13:38:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12322134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xiiee/pseuds/Xiiee
Summary: Jesse should have listened to his mother. But instead, he went and picked up a hitchhiker in the middle of the woods around 2:30 AM.Maybe it wasn't that much of a good idea after all.





	1. Chapter 1

Normally, Jesse did not mind working the closing shifts. It wasn’t like he had particularly steady sleeping habits anyway. The problem wasn’t going to bed when sunlight would barely tint the night sky with a soft glow; the problem was having to do it multiple times in a row to cover for Jamie’s vacation. Who the hell took their vacation weeks  at the beginning of fall anyway? There wasn’t a lot to do when the nights started to get colder and longer besides bundle up for winter and wait for it to pass. Winter activities, some tourists told him. Winter torture, he called it. Who in their right mind would go out in the cold to speed down hills on two thin, slightly curved planks of fiberglass and plastic and call it fun? Wouldn’t it get even colder with the speed? The cowboy tried not to give it too much thought, and brushed the late vacation dates off as another one of Jamie’s oddities.

Not that a boy from Santa Fe moving up to Wasau, Wisconsin wasn’t also odd. The difference in temperature and scenery made his relatives and old friends do a double take when he announced where he was moving to years ago, but now that he had been there for more than a couple years, he definitely didn’t regret going north. Sure, the drive to his job smack in the middle of nowhere and back home totaled a bit more than two hours a day. “Nowhere,” of course, being the Flambeau River State Forest - population: trees, mosquitos and a bunch of tourists and campers. And workers, if Jesse counted the kind and dedicated souls that took care of the patch of heavily-wooded paradise and its numerous campsites.

His job made him feel like he was still home, in a way. The Pine Trails Campsite provided services for tents and all kinds of RVs, including Jesse’s pride and joy: the one and only Southwestern themed bar in a 50 miles radius – and the best one in a radius that went until ‘Southwestern themed’ became the norm, at least according to its owner. And like any respectable bar, Jane’s Calamity closed at 2:00 AM on weekdays, 2:30 on weekends. Jamie , when not on vacation, would take care of closing during the week. With him gone, the task was left to Jesse and Fareeha, who were both adult enough not to whine about their colleague’s vacation but were still annoyed enough to complain at the hours they’d have to pile on in order to keep the place running as the camping season drew closer to its end. The regular customers were slowly leaving one by one with the promise of coming back next year, replaced by hunters who would be there for only a few days in a row.

The distinctive sound of the lock being pushed into place marked the end of another night and the start of the 74-minute drive that would bring Jesse back to his apartment. The cowboy looked around the parking lot for Bessie, the old pickup truck he drove around, before remembering that a brand new truck would now be in his usual spot and that Bessie was having her well-deserved rest on four cinderblocks before some grease monkey would open her up to salvage whichever pieces were still good in there. The turn signals flashing when he unlocked the doors still felt alien to Jesse, as did the rigid but comfortable leather seats and the remainder of new-car smell that was still perceptible under the stronger scent of cigar smoke. There was one thing he could never get enough of, however: the roar of the engine as the ignition fired – nothing like the _cough-hack-cough-spit-out-a-lung_ sounds Ole Bessie made. A truck was good; a truck that didn’t sound like it’d up and die in the middle of the woods was even better.

Especially when one needed to drive in the dead of the night.

 

**

 

Driving for that long in the forest could be mind-numbing, especially when one knew the whole route  by heart. The curves ended up blending together  and while being vigilant and looking out for animals that would cross the road without warning was a thing, Jesse found it hard to keep his mind focused on the passing scenery. The pine trees formed thick walls on either  side of the road, their projected shadows making the forest feel even deeper than it already was. A garbage bag dropped by a dump truck looked like a massive pile of roadkill until Jesse would get closer. Dead animals on the sides of that road were a common scene: the speed limit wasn’t exactly safe for the curves and the small hills on the route, making it very regular for people to hit animals as soon as they set foot or paw on the asphalt. Accidents happened because of deer. Tourists would come to the bar ranting about that bumper they needed to get changed because they ran over the fattest raccoon they had ever seen. There had even been a case of two cars crashing into each other because one of the drivers tried to avoid a fox that had jumped right before his headlights.

Roadkill was a thing that happened. It was exactly why Jesse had to try and shake off the habit of zoning out, muscle memory doing the job as he listened to the radio and _holy shit there was something in his headlights please do not jump in the middle of the road—_

_Someone._

It was _someone_.

_In the dead middle of the woods._

And that someone could not have missed the lights coming from Jesse’s big, brand new pickup truck. LED lights were in fashion, and Jesse agreed that it was the worst idea since… a lot of things. The ‘strongest, whitest lights will allow you to see EVERYTHING on the road,’ sure, but what about the other drivers? They were blinding and annoying as all hell – wouldn’t they make the roads more dangerous? Could LED headlights turn people blind?

The someone on the side of the street – _on his side of the street_ – had not missed the big, brand new pickup truck. They didn’t seem to have been blinded by the LED headlights, either.

It even seemed as though they had been waiting for some time, as their arm was extended – _no_ – and their thumb pointed toward the night sky above – _no. Nope. No good._ Jesse had heard from his mother – bless her soul – of things that hitchhikers could and would probably do to a good boy like him. Tales of prison convicts escaping and hitchhiking their way to freedom. Murderers and aggressors turning on the good Samaritan that took them in for a ride with no second thought. Assholes robbing the driver at gunpoint. Wanted men saying nothing about themselves only to put their savior in deep shit when the feds got behind the car with their megaphones and _STOP YOUR VEHICLE SIR THIS IS THE FBI_ —

The silhouette grew bigger as he drew closer and drove straight past the hitchhiker. There. Crisis averted. Momma would’ve been proud. 10/10, A+, good job. In the rearview mirror, Jesse could see the could-be-murderer getting smaller as he put distance between them and his truck.

He doesn’t know what made him slow down and eventually stop on the side of the road a couple yards further. Maybe it was the way their arm dropped, or how they looked down before slumping. Maybe it was the way their whole posture changed  as they curled their arms protectively around their torso and looked back into the thick forest of pines behind them. Were they scared of the dark? Of the bears and coyotes that were probably minding their business deeper into the woods?

Whatever it was made Jesse pull over a bit further to stop and reconsider. He always kept a gun under his seat just in case – after that story of someone getting bitten by a rabid raccoon at a rest area, it was better to be prepared when going out for a leak. Sure, the stranger on the side of the road  was not a raccoon (he was not certain about the rabid part yet), but he still had a way to defend himself if things went badly. Who in their right mind hung out in the woods at-- 2:26 AM? There was no car in sight, but then again there were places to hike and bike in the area. Getting lost was a possibility, as people would often say they ‘could manage’ and didn’t heed the warnings the park employees gave.

‘Don’t make me regret this,’ thought Jesse as he pushed on the center of his steering wheel, giving two short honks at the stranger. The call didn’t fall on deaf ears, it seemed, as Jesse could see in the rear view mirror the hitchhiker jog up to the truck and raise a pale hand to knock on the passenger’s side window before opening the door. What had caught the headlights’ beams when Jesse drove by were in fact the white sleeves of a letterman jacket’s the man was wearing open over a dark tee, the part covering his chest a rich blue. If the man turned out to be a bad guy, Jesse found himself actually not minding too much the idea of being crushed and stepped on. Dark eyes, sharp facial features, even sharper way to maintain that beard and that undercut. Judging from the figure the guy cut in his clothes, it looked like the facial hair wasn’t the only thing he kept in check.  A soft, almost apologetic smile graced otherwise stern features as the man looked up at Jesse.

“Thank you so much for stopping. For a moment I thought you would keep driving and I was this close to giving up--”

Hell. His voice sounded just as good as he looked. Jesse swallowed, trying to will his salivary glands to work. To no avail.

“Sure thing, darlin’,” he heard himself reply. “Where ya headed?”

 

**

 

In the short span of time that Jesse had to make acquaintance with his unexpected passenger, he learned a few things. His name was Hanzo, he came from L.A. and had a short-term gig in the area as a photographer. His car had gotten stuck in one of the deeper wooded trails and cell phone signal had been too spotty for him to call anyone for help.

Another thing: the sharp exhales from his nose and the deep rumbling chuckles he had when he was amused by something were enough to make Jesse’s heart skip a beat.

“Does the radio always make this noise?”

“Huh?” Jesse hadn’t noticed until his new acquaintance pointed it out. Brand new truck and the radio was already on the fritz? The static noises covered most of what the radio hosts said – not that tonight’s subject was interesting, but it was a little odd. Had it been Bessie, the cowboy would’ve given a couple well-placed slaps to the dashboard in hopes that it’d push any loose wires back into the right spot. He instead gave the dimly -lit screen a quizzical look.

“Guess sometimes radio waves get blocked by the trees. That forest’s pretty thick in some areas.”

The answer seemed to satisfy Hanzo, who sunk further into the leather seat. Or maybe not, as Jesse noticed he had already extended his hand to pick up the auxiliary cord. Now, there was riding shotgun, but the driver usually got to pick--

“Do you have any music on your phone perchance? I drained my battery trying to get out of these woods and that noise is driving me mad,” Hanzo said, eyes scanning Jesse as if to try and find where he kept his cellphone stashed.

Jesse snorted, shifting to fish it from the depths of his jacket pocket and dropping it into Hanzo’s lap, right next to what seemed to be a professional-grade camera. Must’ve cost a pretty penny for sure.

“You ask for a ride and you don’t even bring music with you? Darlin’, next time you plan on hitching for a ride, at least bring something to compensate,” he mused, only to be shot down by a glare coming from the passenger’s seat. Touchy, huh. “You can go through it, but you ain’t allowed to judge.”

Said judging took approximately ten seconds to happen, or about as much time as it took Hanzo to plug in the aux cord and thumb through the first song titles.

“Are… are these… country songs? All of them? ”

There was a pause of a few seconds, during which Jesse almost replied that country music was very respectable and widely appreciated by the right demographic. It was interrupted by a short, spontaneous ‘hah!’ – almost a bark as Hanzo laughed before containing himself again. The grin he gave Jesse would’ve made the man melt if there hadn’t been an edge  of mockery in it. Gentle mockery, he hoped.

“I should have known from the hat and those boots that it was not just a get up. And the flannel--”

“Now easy there partner--”

“ _Partner_ \--” The word was strangled by another laugh, Hanzo pressing his hand against his mouth and breathing in deeply to try and keep it down. There was still a hint of mirth in his tone when he managed to speak again. “I am sorry, I should not be mocking you in that way, I did not mean to offend. Never in my life did I think I would meet an actual cowboy by moving overseas--”

At least the apology seemed somewhat sincere. Jesse rolled his eyes, trying to focus on the road and not on the man he did not regret picking up… yet. He caught a soft hum and a light tap before the sound of a guitar softly came from the speakers. The short intro to Kenny Rogers’ _The Gambler_. The man knew his classics, mocking country music or not.

 

**

 

They fell silent for a few moments, Jesse driving and Hanzo silently looking out the passenger’s side window. The lack of exchange did not seem to faze him – Jesse even caught him tapping his finger on his thigh to the rhythm of the music. It was a bit endearing, and the silence between them was oddly comfortable. Jesse usually tried to fill in the gaps with words. People at the bar liked words, liked a friendly, talkative face to give some life to their evenings. Hanzo seemed to be the opposite, talking in small exchanges, but not sustaining a conversation past its intended purpose. The silence between them was not something Jesse was used to. It was relaxing, in a way the cowboy did not expect.

That is, until  Hanzo flinched in his seat and almost slammed his face into the window, hand slapped flat against it. Jesse almost hit the brakes square, stories rushing back into his head. Criminals, fugitives, murderers, public dangers, wanted men hitchhiking. Assault. Battery. Con. First degree murder. The guy seemed chill, but maybe it was a cover up. Maybe he was this close to snapping. Maybe he had already snapped and was about to jump at his throat. Maybe--

Against all odds, the man did nothing but stare out the window, turning in the seat to look behind them as Jesse kept driving. Hanzo was taut as a bowstring, hands moving to the headrest as he twisted around to stare straight behind them. At that moment, he reminded Jesse of a prey animal standing up, listening intently to know if it had to book it or if it could go back to what it was doing before. Or of a man trying to pick up the sound of police sirens in the distance.

Moments passed before Hanzo sat back properly, keeping his eyes on the road ahead, no longer looking out the side window. The few seconds of silence between two songs felt inappropriately timed. It made Jesse uncomfortable, borderline nervous.

“There was something out there.” A whisper, an exhale, barely loud enough to hear over the next song starting. “There was something tall out there.”

Something in his tone told Jesse he didn’t want to glance at the mirrors, even if he was sure whatever it was was gone. Reflexes and curiosity, however, compelled him to take a peek. Nothing: only the dark of the woods, the bed of the truck,  and the shadows on the sides of the road. Nothing but a rustle in the brush, a hint of movement that made Jesse’s heart jump in his chest. Were those--

“--e road, watch the road!”

Another heart attack barely spared Jesse as he wrenched the steering wheel to the right, causing the truck’s tires to screech on the asphalt. As the vehicle lurched, he heard what could only be violent swearing, whatever language that was in, coming from the passenger’s side. He saw a flash of legs, antlers - _probably a deer_ , his mind supplied. He heard the sound of tires skidding off the side of the curving pavement, felt the bumps of dirt and gravel under the wheels. Another quick jerk on the steering wheel as the ‘4WD’ symbol light up on the dashboard. Lurching again, this time in the opposite direction, back onto the road. The truck fishtailed a few more times in the middle of the curve before Jesse gained full control over it again, holding onto the steering wheel tightly, knuckles turning white from the sheer pressure he applied to it. Just like taming a wild horse. Just needed a little pull on the reins is all.  

Jesse threw a look to his right, trying a weak smile in Hanzo’s direction. The man looked so pale he could dissipate into thin air at any moment, a hand clutched tightly on the safety handle. The way he looked back at Jesse, eyebrows furrowed, eyes wide open, his mouth held firmly into a thin line… It made the cowboy unsure if he’d ever see the light again.

A deer.

It had been a deer all along.

 

**

 

“You’re quite the silent type, ain’t’cha?”

“You almost got us into a car accident.”

Welp. That was kind of true. Even after thirty minutes of now very uncomfortable silence, Jesse hadn’t heard a word from Hanzo. He had even refused a politely offered cigarillo. Then again, maybe he didn’t smoke. Which left more for Jesse anyway.

“Almost. We’re still in one piece, no?” He attempted, hoping the tone in his voice would pass off as matter-of-fact and not as a plea to end the torture of silent treatment. Even Johnny Cash’s crooning couldn’t get rid of the cold feeling Jesse got from the other side of the truck.

A sigh – a sign that his new acquaintance was loosening up a bit?

“I would appreciate getting to my destination _in one piece_ , if that’s not too much to ask.”

Chuckling, Jesse let out a soft ‘oof,’ rubbing at his arm as if he had been hit. He could practically hear Hanzo rolling his eyes as the man grunted and shifted in his seat. Okay, still pissed. Better try another angle.

“So- What’d you say you were doing in Flambeau anyway?” Jesse said, glancing over to Hanzo before setting his eyes back on the road ahead. No more almost kissing the tree line, no sir. “Not that I mean to pry, but we don’t see big -city folks in the area all that often.”

The sigh that preceded the words sounded as if Hanzo was letting go off a short-lived, yet intense grudge.

“Work. I am working on a nature photography calendar. I heard forests up north get beautiful with the colors changing in the trees, and thought it would be a good idea to take pictures of the fauna  in an autumnal scenery. And here I am.”

The explanation was plausible enough. Jesse still couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow.

“You’re taking nature pictures. In fall. In the forest.”

“…yes? Is something the matter with that?” Defensive, if not a little annoyed.

“You’re aware hunting season’s started, right darlin’?”

Hanzo seemed genuinely taken aback by the question, looking back at Jesse, mouth slightly open. Closing it before he could swallow a bug, he gave a shrug and a quick shake of the head, throwing a couple loose strands of hair back.

“Why—yes, I would not come unprepared. I even have this bright orange jacket, can you not see--” He interrupted himself, eyes dropping to his own form, hands patting his chest and sides as if his eyes were sending him false information. No orange hunting jacket in sight. “I was in such a hurry to find the closest road, I might have left it in the car along with my equipment.”

“Uh-huh.”

Jesse smirked, glancing over. Was he seeing cheeks puffing with indignation? Cute.

“I swear! I had to make sure I had enough battery to last me until I found my way out! When I got to the road, I had resorted to using my camera as a light source and it gave up on me as I got there--” Hanzo pointed at the camera he had kept in his lap, as if to give more accountability to his point. Or to avoid bruising his ego any further.

Before he even knew it, Jesse was smiling at his passenger, smoothing over that wounded pride with only a few words. The sight of it seemed to calm Hanzo, who relaxed back into his seat.

“Don’t worry, I believe you.”

 

**

 

It was just before 3:40 when Jesse pulled over next to a bus stop sign that had seen much better days. Next to him, Hanzo was putting the driver’s phone back into one of the cup holders and gathering his belongings, namely his camera and jacket. If there was a thing Jesse had noticed besides the photographer’s good looks, it was that he travelled very light. Then again, everything else was probably in his car or the place where he was staying.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you there? It isn’t much of a detour, ” Jesse attempted. He had come to the conclusion that his passenger did not fit into any of the aforementioned ‘evil hitchhiker’ categories, which prompted his Southern hospitality to take over and offer further service.

“You have already done more than most people would have. I can walk the rest of the way, it is not too far away. You do not need to pamper me,” Hanzo said, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

Jesse put a hand to his chest, feigning offense with a light scoff.

“I ain’t. Just want to make sure my charge  gets home safe and sound.” He drawled, letting out a short laugh as Hanzo opened the door and stepped out. “Hope you don’t mind dog hair on your pants too much. Your seat is Moxie’s spot, usually.”

It earned him another eye roll, this time accompanied by a more obvious smirk . Small victories, Jesse noted to himself.

“Between still being stuck in the middle of the woods at night and having some dog hair on my pants, I believe the choice is easy.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t want to dirty those pants either.”

The smirk left, replaced by full -blown laughter as Hanzo went through his pockets to find his wallet. Jesse noted the deep tones , and the way one of the man’s arms circled his own waist as he laughed. Definitely handsome.

A $20 bill was dropped on the passenger’s seat when the laughter died down. A bit for gas, a bit for Jesse’s troubles. The cowboy knew better than to protest. Men like Hanzo were all about pride, and refusing payment would probably end their encounter on a bad note.

One more ‘thank you, take care of yourself’ and the door was firmly shut again.

Jesse leaned to the side, hand extending to nab the cash left on the seat. His shoulder and ribs protested a little, sign that he was not growing any younger. As he fetched the bill, a weird feeling crept into his gut.

His eyes darted back to the rearview mirror, looking for signs of Hanzo. There was no one on the street – he had probably booked it. It was late, who wouldn’t be in a hurry to be home, Jesse included ? Still, the nagging feeling persisted as he patted down the leather seat. Odd . One would’ve thought the material would’ve been warmer if someone had sat there for so long. Cooling seats were efficient, true, but not that much, that quickly.

Especially when they were not turned on.

Another look at the rear view mirror turned the light nagging to outright discomfort. He remembered long hind legs, sinewy antlers. Eyes that had watched as the truck continued past.

A deer.

It had to be a deer.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you for all the nice comments and feedback! It makes coming back to the writing world so nice ;v;
> 
> Quick warning: there is mention/imagery relating to roadkill/animal death in this chapter. It is not graphic detail, but I prefer to warn.  
> Please drive safely and keep your eyes on the road! Anything happening on your cellphone or that could distract you can wait. Honestly.

Everything that had transpired the night before could have been a dream to Jesse. While he didn’t put past himself the foolishness of picking up a pure stranger to give them a ride – it had been a long day, so his judgment could have been clouded – some details felt almost surreal to him. Jesse did not sleep very well when he went to bed that late; the events of his drive home could very well have been a strange dream caused by the habit change.

Yet the proof of his encounter with the man – Hanzo, he recalled – sat in his wallet, soft from years of going from hand to hand and with a marked crease  down the middle of it.

He had examined the $20 bill a couple times, almost hoping for a phone number to be written on it. Despite the weird turn of events, the company had been agreeable. Driving at night was such a bore, and any kind of distraction was welcome. It was even better when said distraction was real easy on the eyes and had a smooth-as-silk baritone voice. Sadly, there was no contact information on the bill and no matter how Jesse would have liked to know more about the man, he still considered himself above trying to Google his name. Even if he were willing to entertain the idea, it likely wouldn’t even do much since he hadn’t bothered to ask for a last name. For all he knew, the man only had one name and was good as gone.

Unfortunate, really. He would’ve appreciated meeting for coffee during the decent hours of the day. And if things went well and Jesse’s memory of the man was real, he could see where it lead them and maybe even kick singleness  goodbye. Not that it had any chance of happening. It was purely conjecture.

Telling Fareeha probably wasn’t the best idea. It wasn’t as though  Jesse was likely to see the man ever again, and she would worry. No, he would remain silent about the whole thing.

 

**

 

“So, let me get this straight. You picked up a guy in the middle of the woods and drove him all the way to Wasau. At 2:30 A.M.”

_Yikes._

“He looked like he needed help, what can I say? I am a generous soul--”

“A stupidly generous soul, you mean,” Fareeha quipped, arms crossed on her chest. _Double yikes._ “Jesse McCree, you _know_ how far we are from the city. I mean, we got rangers, but if something happened and the police needed to get involved, it would’ve been too late by the time they’d even got here.

Jesse sighed, thumb and pointer finger pinching the bridge of his nose. Their exchange happened in hushed tones behind the counter of the bar. There weren’t too many customers so far, and there would be fewer and fewer  as the season would progress. The few patrons that were in the room stayed in their own clusters nursing their drinks, some enjoying a plate of Jesse’s famous nachos.

Rolling his eyes, the cowboy sighed.

“Look, the police didn’t need to get involved, I’m fine.  Everything’s fine, no one got killed and I probably saved someone some trouble. He’s from L.A., sis. If anything, that’s one more tourist that won’t get in trouble trying to wrestle with a bear.”

There was a pause during which they stared at each other, lips pressed shut and slightly quivering. By the time Fareeha burst into laughter, Jesse knew he was off the hook. Bringing up the story of how her mother’s second husband had actually _wrestled a goddamned bear_ on his first weekend in the state forest was always a source of hilarity… and a way to get his friend to think of something other than his ‘stupidly generous soul. ’

He could even allow himself a chuckle. The event of Reinhardt fighting a bear barehanded was a now-popular story among the campers and the bar’s regular customers. There was even a framed picture on the wall that showed the mountain of a man flexing and laughing, nevermind the bleeding scratches on his arms, as a blurry bear ran away in the distance.

Fareeha took a deep breath, laughter coming to a stop, a smile remaining on her lips as she shook her head.

“Just be more careful next time, Jess. Mom likes you a lot, she’d be sad if something happened to you.”

Jesse quirked an eyebrow at her, eyes narrowing slightly. “And you don’t like me?”

“Ew, no.” His coworker laughed again, the golden trinkets in her hair moving slightly as she did. “Don’t make me get all sentimental, that’s gross.”

They exchanged a smile before going back to their duties, Jesse leaning over the counter as one of the customers approached. No rest for the wicked.

 

**

 

It was 2:15 AM  when Jesse finally locked the door and walked to his car. He would be home a bit later than the day before, and had started to count how many nights he still had to close the bar before Fareeha would take her turn. Still a couple, sadly: just enough to get him into the habit before he would go back to his usual hours. Now, Jesse had trouble sleeping in steady patterns, but it didn’t mean he disliked being in bed by a certain hour. He found himself waiting for Jamie’s return with anticipation. Hell, first thing he would do when the other barman came back would be to go to bed as soon as he felt a twinge of sleepiness.

The road home was the same as usual. The absence of streetlights made the cellphone signal tower’s red flashing light slightly more obvious in the distance, and the stars and moon above supplied whatever glow they could. On new moon nights, the woods looked like they were straight out of one of those creepy mystery movies. From dark and deep, they became impenetrable and seemed to almost absorb the lights from the few cars passing by.

Minutes into his usual drive, Jesse was already annoyed at his truck’s radio. While music was still playing, static had started to settle in, cutting through parts of the songs and ads. It was the price to pay when one drove deep into the woods. Come to think of it, the same thing had happened the night before, although he was a bit further into the forest when it did. It probably had to do with weird wavelength physics and the sky coverage, or some kind of bull he was too tired to try to understand.

The static grew stronger as Jesse continued on, obscuring the radio hosts’ voices and cutting some words out, turning the program he was listening to into incomprehensible gibberish. Shifting in his seat, the cowboy fished his cellphone out of his pocket, thumbing through the menu to find the music app, eyes half on the screen, half on the road. If only Fareeha saw him – oh, he could imagine her eyes rolling and the head shake. Not that she didn’t do the same sometimes, but ‘do as I say, not as I do’ was something both Jesse and his coworker sometimes put in application.

Fiddling with the auxiliary cord, Jesse finally managed to plug his phone into the car radio in order to silence the near-unbearable spittle of static coming from the speakers. He tossed the device on the passenger seat, eyes now fully focusing ahead of him. Immediately, the reflection of light a couple feet off the ground on the side of the road made his heart jump in his chest. It reminded him of the way animals’ eyes seemed to glow when they caught the lights from his truck – putting him at unease when he noticed that they were roughly five and a half feet from the asphalt. The reflection seemed to flicker for a half second, unnatural and eerie, and as Jesse’s truck grew closer the headlights caught more details. A silhouette standing on the gravel, wearing a letterman jacket, the white sleeves now brightly light. An upturned thumb pointing towards the sky.

Again.

Against all odds.

This time, the cowboy did not bother debating  the pros and cons of the idea and stopped his car a few feet past the man. The knock on the window, while anticipated, startled Jesse with how instantaneous it was. Hadn’t he just stopped the truck?

The door opened to admit Hanzo, who stopped for a moment and seemed to consider if he even wanted to come in. Still no orange jacket on him, despite the importance of bright colors during this season. While the man pondered, Jesse hopped on the occasion to quip at him.

“Still not too keen on hunting season safety, darlin’?” He drawled, almost reveling in the squint Hanzo threw his way.

“Tell me about hunting safety when you learn about road safety.” The retort was instant, dry – not rude per se, but still slightly mocking.

Jesse took it all in stride, shrugging. “Needing a ride again? Or you just missed my pretty face?”

“I am not exactly sure, now. Last time I checked, we almost ended up embedded into the trees. Not an experience I would like to go through again.” Hanzo said, as pondering the possibility of such an event repeating itself.

“Details, details. Beggars can’t be choosers, hun. You wanna hop in or would you rather try your luck waitin’ some more?” Jesse offered him the widest shit-eating grin mankind might have ever known, which earned him a scoff and an eye roll. Probably something Hanzo had mastered over years of practice – he did it in such a natural yet dramatic way.

Jesse prodded again.

“Come on. You’re not staying outside at this hour.”

 

**

 

This time, the country songs had been accepted without so much as a word from Hanzo. The man sat slightly slouched, rubbing his hands together and blowing on them to get some heat back into his fingers. It was understandable: while the days were still warm and toasty in the sun, the nights and shadowed patches were getting colder and colder. With how long Hanzo claimed to have been outside, it was no wonder his hands were frozen.

“Are you sure you got a car? Seems to me that you were doin’ the hitchhiking thing yesterday too,” Jesse asked, throwing a quick glance in Hanzo’s direction. Even hunched over and trying to get some warmth to come back to his limbs, he had a dignified feeling about him. The high cheekbones, the pale skin with not even a hint of a blemish or redness from the cold reminded Jesse of old paintings he had seen in samurai movies.

The reply came, Hanzo’s voice as chilly as his hands seemed to be.

“I do have a car. It is… still very stuck in the woods. And there is no way I could manage to contact Genji.” The growl in his tone was easily perceptible. Someone was apparently pissed. “‘Call me when you’re done,’ he says. ‘I’ll pick you up, no prob’ Anija,’ he says. I am grateful someone ended up giving me a ride, but it was not--”

“Not what was planned,” Jesse completed, giving an understanding nod.

Next to him, Hanzo seemed to deflate, shoulders sagging lightly as he pulled his hands inside of his sleeves. “Nothing ever really goes as planned, no.”

“An unreliable friend?”

“Brother,” Hanzo corrected. “Not exactly the most responsible person, I will give you that, but still… He is usually alright when I am the one asking. He has a good heart. Maybe he is still waiting for my call – I could not get any signal on my cellphone.”

Now that was odd. While signal had always been spotty because of the trees, there was still a tower nearby that served the very purpose of making the area cellphone-friendly. One had to walk a little bit and spin around a couple times to find the best reception, sure, but an urgent call could always be made at some point.

To have no signal at all was the worst stroke of luck one could have in these parts when in need.

“You can try on mine. Your brother is probably worried if he was waiting for your call.” Jesse fetched his phone from the cup holder it sat in and dropped it into his companion’s lap.

Picking up the device in his hands, Hanzo didn’t seem to realize he was smiling as he spoke.

“Oh, he is not. He is probably hanging out with friends – he is lucky to be as carefree as he is.” The light from the screen reflected a soft blue on his features as he turned it on, and he let out a soft ‘huh’ as he tapped on the device. “No signal. Not even for 911.”

Jesse turned his head to give him an incredulous look, which prompted a groan from Hanzo – ‘the road, watch the road.’ Had he been in a horror movie, he would have started to worry. Instead he gave a shrug, remembering the trouble he had with his phone company the week prior. Another round of bullshit from his service providers wouldn’t be surprising.

Hanzo sank back into the seat.

“I guess my brother will have to wait.” A pause. “May I turn on the heat? I am freezing.”

 

**

 

“You know, the last photographer I met in these parts was a bit of a strange duck.”

It was enough to earn a reaction from Hanzo, who perked up in his seat. Once the heat had been turned on, he had seemed particularly lethargic, yawning more than Jesse would’ve expected. Yawning was contagious, and they had been tossing it back and forth for a couple minutes straight. Better get out of this funk.

“Yeah, weird bird alright. Guy shows up with his newspaper clippings, says he’s looking for the Bigfoot.” Jesse dropped the last name, heavy like an important revelation that contained all the secrets of the known world. Hanzo stared, incredulous.

“The… Bigfoot? You mean, _The Bigfoot_?” He repeated, drawing the capital T and B in the air with his finger.

“The one and only.”

For a moment, Hanzo remained still, eyes locked on Jesse, lips pressed in what can only be a judgmental pout. Silence stretched for a few more seconds before laughter erupted, sudden and apparently unstoppable. It was deep and rich, and Jesse wordlessly congratulated himself for pulling it out of the man. Damn, the man was even more handsome when he laughed.

“What a—haha—what a _fool_ \--” Hanzo managed to get a few breaths in, low chuckles still making his shoulders jump a little. “If there is a chance of seeing anything remotely weird around here, I would try Elkhorn instead. You can’t find the Sasquatch here, he’s somewhere up in the UP. Michigan.”

“Hah—yeah, you would think--” Jesse laughed with him before coming to an abrupt stop. “Wait, _what_?”

Hanzo’s eyes seemed to glitter with mischief, a smile still allowing some teeth to show.

“Four hours drive to the east. Elkhorn. Bray Road.”

Jesse was almost scared of asking. “Yeah, what of it?”

“1989. Laurianne Endrizzi is driving along Bray Road, a country road near Elkhorn. In the middle of the night, no less. She slows down after spotting an animal on the road, wanting to avoid an accident. Upon closer inspection, what was on her path was a creature she identified as a wolf, hunched over roadkill and eating. The odd thing she noted about it as she passed by it was that it was kneeling, as a human would do.”

There was still that hint of amusement in Hanzo’s eyes as Jesse let out an ‘oh,’ unsure if he wanted to hear more. Were all photographers into weird things like this?

“1991. Doris Gibson drives out on Halloween night to pick up a friend in order to go trick-or-treating. Feeling the car lurch, she pulls over and gets out of the car to see if she hit anything – it is a country road, after all. She finds no dead animal, no pothole, nothing but a tall, beast-like shadow at the edge of the forest. Her reflex was to run back to her car, and she could hear--”

“Hanzo.”

“—the thing following with--”

“Hanzo.”

“—heaving breaths, feet and claws stomping the ground.”

“You’re having fun, ain’tcha pumpkin?”

The giggle Jesse heard as he tried to stay focused on the road answered his question. Looking over to the passenger seat, he spotted Hanzo, a leg brought up to his chest, chin rested on his knee – the corners of his lips tugged upwards into a smug smirk.

“You sound like someone who did some research on those things. The Sasquatch. The… whatever that wolf-thing was.”

“The Beast of Bray Road,” corrected Hanzo, tilting his head. “They are interesting stories, when you know how to listen. Most of the time it is only the fear of the unknown taking form in people’s imaginations.”

“Most of the time.”

“Jesse, don’t you find it strange that we know more about space than about our own oceans?”

The question took Jesse aback – the sheer frankness in Hanzo’s tone, the use of his name, the way the man turned to look at him, eyes reflecting the radio’s soft light for a split second. Who knew he would be driving in the middle of the Flambeau River State Forest in the dead of the night, discussing the unexplained with a handsome acquaintance. Life’s little surprises were sometimes unpredictable.

“We have explored less than five percent of our oceans. We sent a rover to explore Mars’s surface. We know more about what’s going on out there than what’s on our own planet.”

“You believe in those things.” It was not a question; Jesse said it as if he were trying to digest the information.

“Not everything,” Hanzo shrugged, shaking his head. “Only a fool would believe everything they hear. But I think that there are still some things that go beyond our understanding.”

It… almost made sense, when someone put it that way. There was a lot that still had to be uncovered, and science made progress every day. Jesse felt somewhat humbled at the thought: despite all progress made, it would still take several lifetimes before anyone could claim to really understand the world as it was. It put everything into perspective.

“That Gibson girl, in ’91. She made it out okay?” He asked when he felt like the silence between them was starting to drag on.

“She did. According to her testimony, the beast jumped on the trunk of her car, but she managed to drive away. The last report pertaining to the Bray Road events dates back to 1992.” On Jesse’s right, Hanzo looked like he has found a comfortable position on the seat, head leaning against the window. He didn’t seem cold anymore.

“Hey. Last question. …you buyin’ into that Bigfoot stuff?”

The laugh Jesse got as an answer was instant, derisive.

“Hell no. For all I know, Bigfoot is a really hairy guy who got lost on a camping trip. Someone like. I don’t know. With a PhD in astrophysics and a minor in English literature. Probably goes by Winston or something like that.”

 

**

 

Jesse had noticed one thing about Hanzo. The more comfortable he was, the less affected his language was. Going from prefect grammar and diction, he had slowly switched to using more contractions, sounding more natural to Jesse. As if he was letting his guard down. Not that he had to keep it up; Jesse wasn’t one to judge with his way of speaking. But up until a night ago, and even a bit into that night, they had been pure strangers. It was nice to see the man loosen up a bit, to get to know who he was driving around instead of keeping things to polite conversation.

There was improvement if the cowboy compared the current night to the last one. No _almost-kissing-the-tree-with-his-brand-new-truck’s-front-end_ part, which was great. No mocking  the good old country classics that replaced the static from the radio – he could even swear he heard Hanzo humming along at some point as he started going through the pictures on his camera. The screen’s light was low, not bright enough to bother Jesse in his driving. There was a little break in the light, akin to a blink, every time Hanzo changed the picture he was looking at. From what Jesse could see with the small glances he threw the other man’s way, Hanzo was a perfectionist. There was that telltale scrunch of his nose, the small groans and tired sighs, sometimes even a shake of his head as the photographer went through his memory card.

It made Jesse curious. He wasn’t much of a professional with a camera himself; sure, he wasn’t as bad as other people and knew how to use the photo options on his phone just fine, but the words “composition,” “lighting,” and “white balance” did not evoke anything precise in his mind. He had a couple selfies with Fareeha and Jamie, pictures of scenery he found pretty and shots of meals that looked particularly appetizing. And oh so many pictures of his dog. _So many._ He had always loved pets, but had only understood the craze of loading his phone’s capacity with snapshots of them when he adopted Moxie. Oh well, he had an excuse: she was very photogenic for a Boston terrier.

He gestured over to the camera, making Hanzo shift in his seat and straighten up to look at him.

“In your picture. That mink’s cute as a button. Can I see it?” Jesse asked, only to be shut down by a strained ‘eyes on the road’ from Hanzo. “Come on. Just a quick look. I’ll keep an eye out.”

“No,” came the answer – and a frown from Hanzo followed. “You can drive however you want when you’re by yourself, but I would rather--”

“I’ll slow down, I promise everything will be fine, it’s a straight line for half a mile, come on,” he persisted, trying what Fareeha had once called his puppy dog face.

The agony he heard in Hanzo’s sigh must have been a sign that it worked. The exasperated shake of the head confirmed it, and soon the screen was directed in Jesse’s way. The cowboy gave it a quick look, glancing over at the road every two seconds or so.

On a rock among fallen red and orange leaves, a mink was curiously lifting its head up in the photographer’s direction, looking directly into the objective. While mingling into the warm colors, its dark brown fur made enough of a contrast on the out-of-focus leaves to make it the main point of the picture. Its little face had an air of curiosity, as if the presence of photography equipment had intrigued it.

_Bump._

Oh.

Oh _shit_.

Jesse and Hanzo looked at each other in sudden realization, eyes wide, eyebrows slightly furrowed. Applying pressure to the brakes, the cowboy pulled over with a sigh. ‘ _Eyes on the road,_ ’ a voice repeated in his head. ‘ _You never know when something will jump out of the brush._ ’

“Fuck.” That was Hanzo, leaning over to the right to try and see something in the side mirror. “You didn’t miss him.”

“Oh God, I really--?” Jesse’s stomach churned, and he could feel the last of his nachos bubbling uncomfortably in his chest.

“You really. I knew I shouldn’t have given into--”

“No, no, that one’s on me. Ugh, I’m sorry, I’m--”

“Look, we’re both at fault, it was an a—wait. Are you crying? Please don’t be crying.”

“I’m not, it’s just. Jesus Christ. Let me breathe a second.”

Forehead against the steering wheel, hands still gripping it, Jesse took a deep breath, then another. In through the nose, out through the mouth, rinse, repeat. While steadying his breath did not take more than a minute, he could still feel his heart pounding in his chest. It was an uncomfortable feeling, and Hanzo’s apologetic, almost mournful look didn’t help.

“Are you… going to be okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” He was not exactly fine, but he would manage. “Stay in here, I’ll go take a look.”

Before Hanzo could protest, Jesse pressed the button that released his seatbelt and opened the door, walking out into the cold night air. With the days still somewhat warm and the nights getting colder, a light fog partially covered the ground. _It’s like stepping into smoke,_ the cowboy thought, walking around the truck in order to retrieve the shovel he kept in the back.

Ugh. Well, that sucked. And there he was, thinking his night wasn’t too bad in the end. He suddenly felt very tired.

It was too late for this.

Walking towards the small, unmoving form on the asphalt, Jesse let out a shaky breath he didn’t know he was holding. When one heard of roadkill stories, it always happened to others, and was quickly brushed off as just another accident that happened frequently on forest and country roads. When it happened to you, however, it became something that was harder to just get over in moments. Taking the life of an unsuspecting animal that was just minding its own business due to his own carelessness was a cold feeling that sunk deep into Jesse’s chest.

He knelt down to take the damage into account. The raccoon probably didn’t even feel it. There was no blood or open injury, only a couple weird angles, making the scene somewhat sadder than expected. An acrid smell rose in the air as the poor creature’s bladder finished emptying itself, making Jesse’s heart sink. There was no denying it: that raccoon would not shake it off and get back up.

“Damn. I am so, so sorry, buddy,” he whispered, half to the unmoving creature, half to himself.

The shovel was not the most decent thing to use according to Jesse’s conscience, but he still straightened up and used it to push the dead animal off the asphalt and onto the roadside. At least no one would run it over again and make things worse than they already were. The thought of it made the cowboy slightly squeamish. Straightening up, he shivered in the cold fog.

A feeling he had brushed aside less than 24 hours ago  came back to nag at him. It was stronger this time, mingling with the stories Hanzo had mentioned back in the car.

Fear manifests itself in strange ways sometimes, and Jesse could not say if what he felt was rational or not.

The unease grew into discomfort, discomfort grew into trepidation. The setting did not help, and for a split second he thought that if he could see himself at that moment, he would laugh at how scared he was when there was no danger in the vicinity. The safety of his truck was close enough for him to reach in a couple strides. The thought that he would have to tie his shovel back into the truck’s bed suddenly became stressful, and he found himself walking faster. He remembered last night. What had to be a deer, and yet had prompted a violent, knee-jerk reaction from Hanzo. How the feeling had lingered after – hind legs, antlers. Hind legs, antlers. _Definitely a deer._ Hind legs, antlers. Eyes that watched. _Had to be a deer._ His hands fiddled with the bindings as he tied the shovel, testing the bonds again. The door was close. Two or three strides. He tried not to look at the side of the road, in case a shadow was watching. Much unlike Doris Gibson, ’91, who had definitely seen _something_. The only lights he had were those provided by the truck, white at the front end, red at the back. He could hear the wind rustling through the branches, feel the cold fog dampening his jeans. Did he really breathe that loudly, or was it something else? Pulling on the handle with more force than needed, he hurried into the truck, almost slamming the door on his leg in his haste to close it.

“Hey, you alright?”

Jesse took in a sharp breath, head whipping to the side, his gaze taking a moment to catch Hanzo’s. For a moment, he had felt like he had been alone in the truck, like he was the only tangible presence there. Probably the adrenalin pumping through his system as he had rushed to his car, fleeing from nothing. Those dark eyes looked at him, as if searching for something, a cause to his state, anything.

“Are you… sure?” Hanzo sounded genuinely worried. Even in his still frightened mindset, Jesse found a way to think that it was endearing.

“Yeah, I’m good. Peachy. Just… no more spooky scary stories before I have to get out of my truck in the dead of the night, in the middle of the woods to shovel some roadkill out of the way.” Jesse turned the key, feeling reassured already as the engine almost purred under the touch. He was lucky his truck was new – being in that situation with Bessie would’ve sucked balls.

There was a soft chuckle at his side. “You must not deal with horror movies very well.”

The remark was innocent, a bit teasing, and completely unpredictable. Taken aback, Jesse paused before letting out a warm, albeit nervous laugh.

“Darlin’, I can watch anything gory while eating lunch. The grosser, the better. Ghost stories are good but they haunt me for days on end and I scare myself walking in front of a mirror at night. But man. Give me too many jumpscares and I cry.”

“…don’t cry. Please. It always makes things awkward and I won’t know what to do.”

Hanzo looked almost uneasy at the idea of Jesse crying, which made the cowboy chuckle again. “I’ll try not to, just for you.”

Giving one last look at the raccoon on the roadside through the rearview mirror, Jesse took a deep breath and averted his eyes, and drove on.

 

**

 

Thanks to their misadventure in the woods, it was a good ten minutes later than last time when Jesse pulled over by the bus stop. At this hour, there were no busses to pick up travelers, but according to Hanzo it was only a short walk to where he stayed. Jesse tried to insist, offering to drive him to the door and make it easy for him, but Hanzo was adamant.

“It is already late enough for you. I do not want to hold you back.” He politely refused, shifting to get to the back pockets of his jeans.

“If you are worried about me getting my beauty sleep, hun, then don’t. Sleep ain’t on the program tonight,” Jesse insisted, thumbing through the music list on his phone.

“Did I scare you with those stories?”

The question could have been mocking, but Hanzo’s voice was devoid of any sign that indicated amusement. He sounded worried, sorry. Jesse noticed how the man seemed to be studying his face, looking for a sign that showed he was truly alright. He offered him one of his trademark smiles, nodding lightly to add to it.

“I am fine, we just had quite an ‘adventure’ tonight, and I’ll need to try and calm my brain down before I can sleep. I feel kinda bad ‘bout that raccoon, you know.”

Hanzo nodded, serious. Jesse surprised himself by smiling again at how the man went from casual to solemn with no sign of transition.

“I understand.” Then, with a smirk. “You should ask your manager to give you a day or two off so you can sleep. That way, you might have a better focus on the road.”

“Oh haha, very funny,” Jesse groaned, shaking his head. “I, as the manager, am taking responsibility for my employee’s vacation and am doing his closing shifts until the end of the week. You know. The sensible thing to do.”

“How thoughtful and responsible of you.” They stared at each other, both squinting lightly. Jesse was the first one to crack, laughing behind his hand as Hanzo followed.

When their laughter died down, Jesse quipped back.

“You know, if a city boy like you ain’t above nachos and a good beer, come see how thoughtful and responsible I can be on my turf. Pine Trails Campsite. Meet me at the Southwestern bar there when you manage to pull your fancy car out of the woods.” A business card was picked from Jesse’s wallet and extended to the man on the passenger seat.

Hanzo’s sneer was comical as he picked up the card, and Jesse knew better than to think it was insulting. He was starting to pick up on the dry humor the man had.

“A country bar. How distasteful.”

Fetching his wallet from his pocket, Hanzo switched the card for another $20 bill. Jesse was about to refuse it when their eyes met and he simply shut his mouth. Some things were better left alone.

“Try to drive safe, alright?” Hanzo rolled the bill, putting it in the cup holder before extending his hand to Jesse, who shook it firmly.

“Yup. Don’t get lost on your way from your car to the road, I won’t be able to pick you up next time.”

Another eye roll and Hanzo walked out onto the sidewalk. Jesse watched as he took the first steps, then looked down at his hand. His new friend had been blowing and rubbing his hands together for the longest part of the trip, desperately trying to warm them up. Jesse’s own hand tingled lightly, as if he had closed an ice cube in his fist. Flexing his fingers a couple times, Jesse looked back up.

Hanzo had vanished from sight, yet again.

A shiver crawled up his spine. He rubbed his hands together, trying to warm them up, going as far as to rest them on the vents on the dashboard, trying to gather warm air into them. A pat of a hand on the seat next to him confirmed his thoughts.

Cold.

As if it hadn’t been occupied for the last hour and a half.

Jesse let out a trembling breath as he rested his head back on the headrest, closing his eyes for a moment. The memory of roadkill was still vivid in his mind. Even crisper, as if someone had filmed it in ultra high definition, was the memory of what he had seen in the rearview mirror before leaving.

The carcass of a raccoon smoothly moving, as if dragged, from the roadside to the brush.

The eerie red light from his truck reflecting on two eyes that watched.


	3. Chapter 3

There was a saying Jesse knew that had been changed and misquoted over the years (and also by a fair number of Pinterest kids who thought it would sound deeper if it was slightly modified): ‘Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is enemy action.’ Or at least that’s how he remembered it. Even if there wasn’t an ‘enemy’ per se, Ian Fleming had never sounded more appropriate. Not that quoting Goldfinger would change the fact that once again, he ended up picking up the same man as before, at the exact same spot on the road, around the same unholy hour.

 After closing the bar that night, Jesse had found himself running back to his truck. The first drops of rain had started falling minutes before he stepped out, misleadingly soft. He hadn’t been prepared for the storm that kicked up all too quickly, transforming the tiny droplets into something closer to quarter-sized. Had it been summer, he wouldn’t have minded. But it was well into fall, and the rain was cold when it crashed onto his skin and seeped through his flannel. By the time he reached his truck, he was soaked to the bone and lightly shivering.

The storm forced him to drive slower to avoid aquaplaning. Visibility was reduced to a short distance, making it harder to predict if anything would jump in front of the truck. Claiming the life of another victim was not exactly in Jesse’s plans for the night. All he wanted was to get home safe and preferably dry.

Radio waves started giving up around the same spot as the night before. This time, Jesse did not dare pick up his phone and instead decided to wait for the static to die down once he’d passed that stretch of the road. The scratching got more and more intense as he drove, only interrupted by louder, erratic screeches. Reaching towards the radio in order to silence it once and for all, Jesse froze.

Among all the buzzing and screeching, he could pick up… he wasn’t sure.

Something.

Something low and deep, almost indistinct among the garbled sounds.

It sounded like a male voice. Maybe he was picking up some more consistent waves and it was only the host’s voice.

_O… y… od…_

Jesse’s hand hovered above the button.

_…oly… it…no…_

Somehow he wasn’t so sure about it being the radio host now.

_…elp! HELP!! FUCK, HELP—_

Click.

Jesse pressed on the button, heart racing in his chest. That was definitely not the radio host. Somehow silence was not better, as the words echoed in his head, making him tense up even further.

 _Eyes on the road_ , he thought, his inner voice sounding more like Hanzo’s than his own. The man had bugged him so much about keeping focused while driving, and maybe it was just what he needed to steady himself. Eyes on the road, not on the now-silent radio.

He looked back at the road just in time to slam his foot on the brake pedal, making the tires screech and the truck fishtail briefly before stopping inches from a denim-clad leg. The upwards-turned thumb shook lightly in the headlights, rain obscuring the outline of Hanzo’s silhouette. Jesse couldn’t see him very well from his point of view, but could only assume that shock was probably written all over his face.

One blink, and there was no one left at the front of the truck.

Instead, a nearly-instant knock on the passenger side window.

The door was pulled open, letting some of the rain in and onto the seat. Outside, Hanzo stood a little hunched, jacket stretched over something he held against his chest. Probably his camera, by the looks of its shape. The paleness of his skin, the visible shivers, the wet hair plastered on his skin were enough to convince Jesse to gesture for him to come in. Seconds later, the door closed and a drenched letterman jacket was tossed in the shadows at Hanzo’s feet as he huddled up on the seat, pulling his camera out of the plastic bag that protected it from the water. The look he shot Jesse’s way was half thankful, half worried.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“And you look like a drowned rat, but you don’t see me sassin’ you,” Jesse replied, cranking the heat up and pressing on the heating seat button for the passenger side. He heard Hanzo groan what was going to be a retort, only to be interrupted by a sigh of comfort when he felt the seat quickly warming up under him. “Now, do you have another excuse for tonight?”

Hanzo had put his camera on top of the dashboard in order to keep his hair from dripping on it, and was in the process of tugging at the elastic band that kept the mass of dark locks together. He paused to answer, stopping so the elastic was merely loosened, black hair disorderly falling out of it.

“I hoped – I thought you would show up again. And I did not expect so much rain, so fast.”

Jesse found nothing to throw back at the man, surprised by the answer. The photographer had waited for him by the road, trying to keep his equipment dry, with no other reason than to ride with Jesse for another night in a row.

“You wanted to see me?” he asked, trying to process the information.

“Do I need to serve you another ‘my car is stuck, I’m sorry’ instead of admitting the company is appreciated?”

The question seemed rhetorical, so Jesse added nothing. On his seat, Hanzo finished undoing the bun his hair had been pulled into, shaking it free to try and get rid of the water in it. They exchanged a glance, and Jesse was somehow only half-surprised to find honesty in those dark eyes. No brother not picking him up, no car stuck in the woods. Only a desire to see Jesse again.

It felt both weird and flattering.  Who in their right mind would wait in a cold downpour just to see someone they barely knew, and then matter-of-factly admit to it without an ounce of embarrassment?  Hanzo was definitely unlike anyone else Jesse had known before.  He found himself genuinely glad that the man had wanted to see him again.

He smiled – suddenly the voice on the radio felt like a vague, distant memory. It was replaced by a soft warmth in his chest.

“Get comfortable, we’ll leave when you’re ready.”

 

**

 

After fetching an old serape from the backseat for Hanzo to wrap himself in and connecting his phone for some background music, Jesse comfortably sat back in the driver’s seat. He was mostly dry by now, compared to Hanzo who was visibly shivering. With only wet clothes, it would be hard to get warmer, and Jesse did not dare suggest he removed his shirt and pants, even if he would have liked to see where that dragon tattoo ended. Broad hands carefully manipulated the camera, holding it up while the photographer gave it a critical look from all angles.

“So, any damage?” Jesse asked, shifting in his seat to have a better look at it.

“No, it seems fine – ah, there we go,” Hanzo replied, the screen lighting up after he pressed a button. “I was scared for a moment that it would not work, but it seems to be alright.”

“Can I see them? We’re not moving, there’s no risk of hitting anything.” Jesse hoped he could see at least one bit of what Hanzo did for a living. At first, it had been curiosity – now, after seeing one of his pictures, he wanted to know more. Wildlife pictures didn’t seem easy, and the little mink he had seen the night before on that small screen made him want to see exactly how talented Hanzo was.

“Uh— They’re works in progress. There’s no post-prod done on them, some need to be fixed lighting-wise…” There was hesitation in his voice. It was difficult to know exactly why one would be shy about anything in progress; being warned, Jesse knew not to expect entirely finished products.

“Pretty please?” He tried a smile, batting his eyelashes at his passenger. He only got a groan as an answer. Which, of course, prompted him to keep blinking quickly at Hanzo, just like a character in one of those cartoons.

“Ugh, fine, just, please, ugh, stop, that’s weird and embarrassing. I’ll hold the camera, it is quite fragile, just— _God, will you please stop--_ ”

Subsiding with a wink (which earned him another loud groan), Jesse smiled as he leaned closer. With the screen directed at him, he could look through the pictures, Hanzo clicking the button to change frames  whenever the cowboy hummed.

These were good shots, and if Hanzo complained about the lighting on some of them, it was probably because he was looking with the perfectionistic eyes of a professional. Here, a doe with two of her quickly-growing fawns. There, a black bear sleeping up in the trees. Next one, a red fox mingling with the orange leaves on the ground. On another: _antlers_.

Double skip.

A bobcat preparing to pounce. Next. Long, deer-like hind legs.

Double skip.

Two otters playing around on a river bank. Next. A blurry shape in the distance.

Triple skip.

Night vision picture. Antlers. Eyes that watched.

_Skip again._

Jesse felt a shiver running through his whole body as he lifted a hand. “Stop. Go back to the last one,” he whispered, as if someone else was listening in.

Looking back up, he noticed Hanzo wasn’t looking at him anymore, but straight ahead. Feeling his heart leap in his chest, he risked a glance over. Nothing.

“No, it’s not a good one, it’s blurry.” Hanzo’s voice sounded strangled, and he pulled back the camera, turning it off.

“Hanzo,” Jesse spoke, at a normal volume this time. “Hanzo, please.”

Nothing. Jesse sighed.

“Are you here only for nature pictures?” He tried to prod, hoping that Hanzo wouldn’t clam up and remain silent. If he did, the road home would be especially long and awkward.

Silence stretched on for a moment during which Hanzo seemed to prefer keeping himself busy with his camera, making sure once again that it was completely dry and devoid of scratches. With a sigh, Jesse shifted back in his seat, putting his seatbelt on and taking the road. It took three more minutes before he heard Hanzo speak again.

“You almost thought I was crazy yesterday. What do you think now?”

There was something in his voice that Jesse couldn’t quite pinpoint – irritation? Embarrassment? Guilt, even? The cowboy risked a glance to his right; his companion looked back at him, lightly worrying at his lower lip. It was the first time he could read Hanzo this easily, with the man making no effort to stifle any display of nervousness. Jesse could understand the fear of judgment all too well.

“No, no. Don’t you worry about that.” The words made their way out seemingly on their own. Hanzo seemed to relax a bit, putting his camera in the space between the seats and tugging the serape tighter around himself. Jesse only got a soft hum in response, as if he had decided to end the conversation on that note. The silence was slowly filled by John Denver’s voice, country music coming back to Jesse’s ears as they traveled down the road.

_Country roads, take me home—_

“We know more about Mars than we know about our own oceans, Jesse.”

“Yeah, I remember you sayin’ something like that yesterday,” he replied, slowing down as another car sped by in the other lane. A rare occurrence at this hour. “It really seems to bother you.”

“It does.” Hanzo’s tone did not seem open to rebuttal. “When one or two unreliable people relate a story, I understand that it is classified into the ‘yet another drunk story’ category, but when multiple people that normally wouldn’t talk about such things without risking status – police officers, soldiers, elected officials… Why isn’t it looked into with more care?”

“You think there’s something worth researching here?” Jesse  asked, surprised and a little worried. If he hadn’t already spent two nights by Hanzo’s side, he would’ve been incredulous, but the events of their last rides together were starting to pile up into something the cowboy wasn’t sure he liked. Especially when he felt watched by something that could be hiding in the dark under the trees’ cover, just a few feet away from the road.

“Mhm. Or at least, these woods have value beyond serving as the backdrop of yet another wedding day photoshoot. Some days, you really get tired of lying down in puddles and whatnot because there _must_ be a low-angle picture of two people shoving their perfect marriage down everyone else’s throats.” Oof. That was getting personal.

“Tough customers?” The groan Jesse got as an answer confirmed it. “So, you wanna understand something out here and you want to branch out?” Another groan, another positive yet reluctant answer. “…and taking pics of… whatever that is… is your safest bet?”

“It could sell well with newspapers. Make a bit of a sensation.”

“I said your _safest_ bet. Because – and pardon my French – don’t go shittin’ me about safety, that last pic fuckin’ gave me the creeps.”

This time, he could hear the smile in Hanzo’s voice.

“Jesse, if a photographer does everything in a safe and sane manner, then they are not dedicated enough to the shot.”

 

**

 

This time, Hanzo proved to be more talkative than Jesse initially thought. Once the ice was broken about his motivations for coming up to the state forest, he did not mind sharing details about his research and how things progressed. Apparently, there had been some sightings many years ago, and one or two cases of missing people. It was a small thread the man was hanging onto, but the events of the last nights made Jesse reconsider before mentioning the lack of evidence. Then again, there was still the possibility that whatever was hiding in the woods was just a diseased animal. Or at least, that was the thought he managed to muster up in order to feel like he wasn't becoming paranoid.

Jesse settled for half-listening to Hanzo as he spoke, nodding every once in a while and marveling at how enthusiastic and engaged the man sounded when he talked about something he was interested in. Jesse glanced over every now and then, finding himself smiling when he noticed the curve of Hanzo's lips or the way his eyes seemed to glitter as he spoke. In all honesty, the cowboy had not expected how passionate his friend could get; he had pegged him as someone perpetually serious, almost solemn. There was more to his passenger than he had initially thought, which was fortunate: good looks only did so much. Jesse could now say with certainty that not only was Hanzo easy on the eyes, he was also… interesting. Dry humor, an open yet critical mind, and something else Jesse couldn't quite pinpoint that burned strong under the cold and mysterious facade. And that laugh. The laugh alone was enough to die for.

Maybe he was getting a bit more than a boy crush.

Just maybe.

“Can you hear that?”

The words were like a cold shower. Forget warmth and comfort – Jesse could feel himself tense up as he turned the volume of the radio down. He listened, trying to pick up a sound that would alert him as it had his companion. Hanzo had a hand up, pointer finger moving as if it was trying to find a steady beat to whatever he was hearing. The rain still drummed on the outer shell of the truck, muffling everything else. The humming of the heating system covered most of what was left. For a moment, Jesse heard nothing but the rain and the wipers squeaking against the windshield. Whatever Hanzo had picked up must have been his imagination.

“Wait, there it is again.” Hanzo lifted his finger, and this time Jesse could hear a faint, high-pitched sound in the distance. It lasted for a few seconds before it stopped. A short pause, and it picked up again.

_\--eeeeeeeeeeeee—woooooooooooooo—_

Both men remained silent, listening closely in case the sound happened again. Jesse was sure he had heard that sound somewhere, it was—

“Police sirens,” he let out after a moment. “If I’m not mistaken.”

Damn, did he hope he was _not_ mistaken.

On his right, Hanzo let out a grunt that sounded almost like a ‘maybe.’

A few minutes of silence passed before Jesse felt himself tense up again, reflexively, as red and blue lights flashed at the corner of a curve up ahead. Police sirens. He was right. As the distance closed, headlights appeared in the corner, and the sound picked up again. A police car zoomed by, then another. The park ranger’s truck followed behind, bringing up the rear.

“Maybe there’s an accident down the road,” Hanzo proposed. “It happens a lot on roads like these, no?”

Jesse hummed his agreement. This road was not the most dangerous one, but it still had a high incidence  of accidents compared to some others. A car crash or a particularly bad encounter with a deer was certainly within the realm of possibility.

Then again, lately, a lot of things seemed to be within the realm of possibility.

“…Hey, can we make a detour?” The question was unexpected, causing Jesse to look over at the passenger side, shooting Hanzo a quick, questioning glance.

“At the fork,” the man continued, pointing over at the next curve. Past that one, as indicated by the road sign, would be a fork splitting the road in two. Last year, someone had died in a car accident in that spot – Jesse remembered it made the news. “Both roads lead to Wasau, no?”

“Uh-huh. The one on the right’s the fastest route.”

Hanzo bit at his lower lip, giving it a quick thought. “Let’s take the left one. You’re in no hurry, right?”

Weird request. Especially considering the 15 minutes it would add to the drive, and how late it already was due to the weather.

They were closing in, a sign indicating that Jesse would have to make a choice. There was a distinct smell in the air, like rotten eggs and metal. The rain was slowing down, clouds of fog forming close to the ground. The woods around them seemed darker, thicker.

“Why?” Jesse risked, slightly slowing down. The smell, akin to sulfur, seeped through the vents along with a chill. The cowboy turned the heat to maximum, trying to ignore the goosebumps rising on his forearms.

“Just… not feeling it,” Hanzo replied. Jesse felt like there was a certain evasiveness to his tone, even when he added: “If more police cars come through, maybe it’s better to be out of the way with those tight curves.”

It kind of made sense. Jesse stopped his car right before the road split in two, giving it some thought. The smell of sulfur seemed to get even stronger where he was. He could hear the faint, pleading ‘Jesse…’ coming from his right. His thoughts went back to the radio, the call for help. Police car zooming by only a few moments ago.

“Yeah, sure. Let’s take the left one for a change.” He couldn’t explain why, but Hanzo let out a long sigh of relief, sagging in the seat.

He let go of the breath he didn’t notice he was holding, and drove on.

 

**

 

The rain had slowed down, the downpour turning into a soft pitter-patter on the truck’s body.

Visibility had increased slightly, the fog still making the road a bit blurry in some spots. The one negative point was that while it still rained, it was not enough to keep the wipers on – but still enough to need to make them go every once in a while. The trick was to find the perfect timing, so the windshield would be wet enough to avoid the horrible squeaking sound.

_HEEEE-E-E-E-EUNNNK-thump!_

The timing wasn’t good yet. Hopefully no one else noticed.

… judging by how Hanzo tensed up, someone might have noticed.

Just maybe.

And Hanzo muttering a plea for the torture to end was completely unrelated.

_HEEEE-E-E-E-EUNNNK-thump!_

“Oh for fuck’s sake--” Hanzo groaned under his breath, still loudly enough to be heard.

Jesse couldn’t hold back and let out a giggle.

Hanzo whipped his head to the side to look at him, eyebrows furrowed, scowling.

“You—you’re doing this on purpose! Why, you--”

What had started small blew up into full, loud laughter as Jesse utterly failed to keep a poker face. It took a couple seconds, but he could swear he heard Hanzo join in.

With the high stress of the past hour, it was a welcome change.

They laughed, calming down after a few seconds. Jesse hummed along to Dolly Parton’s _Coat of Many Colors_. Hanzo didn’t seem to mind, tugging the serape around him and fiddling with the seat-heating button until he found the perfect setting to feel warm and toasty. The foul sulfuric smell was gone, replaced by the smoothness of Jesse’s cigarillo. Whatever nervousness the two men could’ve felt was gone, and they were lulled into a feeling of comfortable safety.

“Slow down, there’s something on the road,” Hanzo pointed out, sounding as if he was going to slowly drift off to sleep.

Jesse gave a nod, lightly pressing on the brakes. There was a tall form in the middle of the road alright, still obscured in the distance.

The moment the headlights caught it, Jesse slammed his foot on the brakes – barely hearing Hanzo as the man let out a yelp and a curse.

Long hind legs.

_Oh._

Sinewy antlers.

_Oh no._

Eyes that watched.

_Shit--_

The form moved closer, slowly, bobbing slightly. Jesse could feel his heart racing in his chest, bile rising in his throat. He fought every instinct that told him to put the truck in reverse and back away. His breath felt shallow, his head light, and the thing was steadily coming closer—

The deer paused a few feet away, tense as it listened for any sign of aggression coming from the big, red box that shone light upon it. It remained motionless  for a moment, then took a couple steps towards the right side of the road – smack in front of Jesse’s truck.

A grunt of annoyance escaped him, followed by all the tension leaving his body. A deer. An actual, in the flesh deer. Nothing that had pointy teeth or grubby little hands that dragged dead raccoons into the brush. Only a deer with no idea that it stood exactly in the truck’s way.

Jesse started to maneuver away, carefully driving past the animal. He kept an eye on the deer in order to make sure it wouldn’t suddenly change direction and end up as yet another life claimed by that big red truck.

Leaves rustling in the bush closest to the road caused him to press his foot on the brake pedal again. He even put the truck in park, watching as a doe emerged from the woods, followed by a young deer that had to be her all-grown-up fawn. She stopped in the dead center of the paved road, front legs on the yellow line.

“Jesse.” A whisper on his right, barely audible. “That’s not all of them. Look.”

Hanzo looked just as surprised and amazed  as he probably did, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape as two more deer stepped on the pavement. Had they all stared at the truck, the situation would’ve been downright creepy, but they were simply walking out of the forest, as if they all decided to hang out all of a sudden.

Two, three more joined in. And another one, and another—

“Isn’t it funny, how massive their bodies are compared to such thin legs?” Hanzo sounded awestruck – Jesse attributed it to the unexpected Deer Anonymous meeting apparently scheduled at Just-Ahead-Of-His-Truck, 2:58 AM. “They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”

He nodded, humming his agreement  before fetching the small metal box that contained his cigarillos. A gift from Gabe, ‘instead of carrying a smelly carton.’ Flicking his lighter open, he inhaled the first lungful of smoke and blew it out slowly, appreciating as the taste rolled on his tongue.

He turned to respond, but the seat next to him was empty.  

Jesse didn’t remember hearing a door opening or closing. The serape was on the seat, roughly in the shape it would be if someone had tossed it back there. More importantly, it was dry and nowhere near as warm as it would be if someone had been wearing it. Now, he was sort of getting used to Hanzo vanishing when he left the truck, but this was the first time it happened while Jesse was still sitting there.

A soft tapping sound on the hood startled him. In the headlights, Hanzo was gesturing at him. It was a motion he didn’t recognize, a bit like a cat batting at a ribbon with its paw. The man repeated the gesture a couple times, seemingly growing exasperated as Jesse did not catch on. He paused, hand raking the air once more in slow motion, stopping mid-motion as if he was pondering something before illumination struck. Jesse understood as Hanzo inverted the gesture and motioned again, ‘Come here.’

He was standing only a few feet away from one, two, three… twelve deer. It felt surreal.

Jesse hesitated. Fingers fumbled with his seatbelt, and he pondered for a moment if it was a good idea. Last time he left his truck in the middle of the night, less than savory things had happened. It did not seem like tonight would get any more ‘normal’ either.

Leaving the door ajar  as he stepped out, he slowly made his way to where Hanzo stood. The man was smiling with a hint of held back amazement. The deer were close, looking like they did not mind the men at all. Country music could be heard coming from the truck behind. The rain started falling again, soft but cold.

“They _are_ beautiful alright,” agreed Jesse under his breath, albeit a little late. It felt like saying one word too loud would scare the animals off and make them scatter back into the woods.

Hanzo did not seem concerned, and took another step closer to where the thick of the herd stood. None of them moved or even acknowledged him. Jesse smiled as the man turned around, silently mouthing what could only be expletives of amazement and surprise.

Cute.

Emboldened by his friend’s move, Jesse attempted a few careful steps as well. Two of the deer looked at him, alert, ears straight up in the air. He did not dare move a hair as they studied him with their big, brown eyes – long eyelashes batting as one of them blinked placidly. They did not seem scared of him, which was surprising.

He exchanged a glance with Hanzo. It was obvious that they shared the same amazed bewilderment. The fog on the ground added one more layer of mysterious beauty to the scene.

Rain was falling down on them, and he should have felt downright chilled to the bone. Jesse instead felt a soft warmth in his chest, marveling at the creatures that did not seem afraid of them. The sound of one of the does’ feet tapping on the pavement made his heart skip a beat – she was much closer than he’d thought, eyeing him curiously. Avoiding any movement in order not to scare the animal away, he sucked in a sharp breath when she stepped closer and leaned in to sniff at his chest.

Next to him, Hanzo intently watched the scene, eyes gleaming with something Jesse could not quite identify – something strangely distant, as if the man was lost in thought. He seemed to shake it off, however, biting at his lower lip to avoid speaking up and spooking the deer.

She was close, so close he could touch her.

Temptation won him over, and Jesse slowly moved a hand behind the doe’s head. So far, so good. Lightly, he allowed his fingers to brush against the short, wet fur. Never had he thought he would be able to touch a wild, untamed animal, and yet… This felt surreal. The doe’s ears instantly perked up and she stiffened, suddenly very aware of Jesse’s touch, and bounded back towards the rest of the herd. The other deer seemed to catch on, stepping away nervously and putting a safer distance between them and the two men yet remaining on the road, watching.

One of the deer started walking towards the other side of the road, followed by another.

The deer slowly walked away, disappearing one by one into the brush.

Jesse let out the breath he had been holding for longer than he had noticed.

“Some days, you think you’ve seen everything, and then nature finds a way to surprise you when you least expect it.” Hanzo breathed out, hands rubbing at his biceps to get some warmth in them. “What more can you ask for?”

Jesse chuckled, hand rising to rub under his nose. There was a scent tickling his nostrils.

“Oh, I dunno,” he mused, smirking at Hanzo. “A comfortable life, good friends, a kiss from a handsome stranger…”

Hanzo’s eyebrows knitted together, eyes squinting lightly. “Did you… have this line at the ready? Or was it improvised on the spot?” His tone was suspicious, but amused nonetheless.

“Little bit of column A, little bit of column B.” Jesse couldn’t help but snicker.

His snort abruptly turned into a fit of coughing when Hanzo replied, “Alright, I’m game.”

At least his reaction seemed to tickle Hanzo’s sense of humor. The short laugh he gave was rich and deep, ending in a soft exhale. “Quick, before we both freeze here.”

Kissing someone after planning said kiss out loud proved to be somewhat awkward in the beginning – a lot of exchanged glances and giggles, trying to find the right angle like inexperienced high schoolers, not knowing exactly when it was appropriate to close their eyes or where Jesse should put his hands. In the end, the small of Hanzo’s back felt natural – they were both cold from the rain, and Jesse could swear he felt a shiver under his hand when he pulled the other man closer.

There had been a slight give to the curve of Hanzo’s back, as if he pressed against empty space  before he felt him, solid under his touch, as the man tiptoed to meet with him. His lips were just as cold as expected, a bit harder and fuller than Jesse had thought they’d be. Hanzo did not seem like an aggressive kisser, instead taking his time with whatever he was given – each press of his lips long and languid against Jesse’s. His hands held loosely onto the cowboy’s frame, cold through the plaid flannel of his shirt. Through the remnants of his cigarillo’s taste, Jesse also found the flavor of green tea and something dry and cold, somewhat akin to a full-flavored white wine. There was also another taste he could not quite pinpoint – metallic, somewhat earthy, definitely unexpected.

There was a strange smell in the air. The truck behind them was still humming, music coming from the speakers and through the open door.

_Baby, lock the door and turn the lights down low—_

Hanzo broke off, letting out a loud, barking laugh. Jesse watched, amused, as the man pushed his hair back.

“I’m—wow I—I am deeply sorry,” Hanzo apologized, the laughter making it hard to believe. Not a single person could laugh that hard and give a proper apology. “It’s not your fault, there’s that song and--” Nope, no apology could be sincere in the slightest when a loud snort and more giggles came right after it.

“There’s nothin’ to apologize for, darlin’.” Jesse found himself snickering as well. Laughter was contagious. “We should head back. Unless you wanna turn into an icicle.”

Going back to the truck’s warmth and silently blessing the inventor of heated seats, Jesse lingered a moment more outside to take a deep breath and commit everything to memory. The kiss had felt… good. Natural. He would not mind repeating it again, maybe after a proper outing and…

…Jesus Christ, it _reeked_ outside all of a sudden.  

Jesse sat in the driver’s seat, shut the door and buckled up. It wasn’t as bad in the truck, but the unusual scent was still drawn inside through the heating system. _Ugh_. Pulling onto the road again, Jesse turned the heat to a lower setting despite constantly shivering from how wet and cold he was. He instead cranked up the heat from the seats as Hanzo bundled up in the serape once again. Luckily, there was a second one on the back seat, which Jesse grabbed and pulled around himself.

Checking the rearview mirror, he smiled as he noticed a silhouette on the pavement a distance behind them. A deer, judging by the antlers.

Or not.

Not with the smell of rotten eggs and stagnant water permeating the air, not with the strange, unnatural gait, not with that reflection of light in those large, bead-like eyes.

Eyes that watched.

Jesse wished it was a deer.

It had to be.

 

**

 

Hanzo remained bundled up on the seat as Jesse pulled over, the bus stop sign a telltale sign that they would have to part ways once again. The cowboy found himself fiddling with the heat settings again, postponing their parting a little more even if it was drawing close to 4 AM. Hanzo did not make a move to get out either for a good thirty seconds. He ended up shifting after a while, slowly letting go of the serape he had tightly pulled around himself and fetching his jacket from under his feet. His camera found itself once again protected from the rain by a plastic bag and tucked under Hanzo’s clothing.

Jesse offered him a tired smile. The whole drive added to his workday had left him exhausted and yearning for a warm shower and his bed.

“Hey. You take care on the way home, alright?”

Hanzo seemed surprised by the change in tone compared to the last two nights. He still fumbled for his wallet, just like the times before – and Jesse stopped him, his warm hand covering Hanzo’s freezing one.

“Keep it. Instead, let’s get a coffee some time, yeah?” He proposed before adding, “If it’s alright with you.”

Hanzo’s smirk was tired but sincere when he quipped, “You’re not serving me the usual ‘I’d like to get to know you better’ talk, are you?”

“Well, you said it, not I--”

There it was, that roll of his eyes and the slight puffing of his cheeks. Cute.

“I guess I still have your work number. We could see how this whole thing plays out.”

Pushing the door open, Hanzo stepped out into the early morning light . He turned to thank Jesse one last time and to push the serape onto his seat.

“Hanzo. You be careful, alright?”

The man seemed puzzled by the request, lightly tilting his head to the side. Jesse found it endearing for a moment, then remembered the pictures on that memory card. The antlers, the unsettling image of a shape he did not recognized.

“You be careful,” Jesse pressed, “and when you’re done with your work, we get coffee. Deal?”

There was a silence during which he couldn’t help but tense. It felt as if Hanzo was truly considering the option of going out  for coffee at some point, but also that the ‘careful’ part of the request seemed hard for him to achieve. At the end of a few more seconds, he let out a sigh and shook his head. Jesse felt his heart sink in his chest.

“Deal.” …and flutter back up as Hanzo accepted. “Just, something other than country music next time?”

“Yeah, yeah deal. Sounds great. You have a good night, Hanzo.” Jesse gave a little wave of the hand, to which Hanzo replied with a nod.

“You too, Jesse.”

Jesse looked down to readjust the settings on his heating seat, no longer needing it to warm him that much. He knew that when he would look up, Hanzo would have vanished.

 

**

 

Moxie was the one to pull Jesse out of his bed at 11 AM. The Boston terrier had been an angel, dealing with his hectic schedule and not going number one or two in the house while he was away, but there was always a limit to holding it in. She apparently had decided that when reaching that limit, her human’s sleep had to be disturbed until she could finally go relieve herself outside.

‘Groggy’ was a nice word to describe Jesse that morning. His recent nights had been restless, haunted by whatever was in those woods that stared from a distance. Couldn’t be a deer. Not anymore.

Last night, the dream had changed, instead featuring a handsome stranger, no clothes and a mattress in the bed of his truck. And Moxie had decided to interrupt said interesting dream right when it was about to become even better.

He got up, walking to the patio door to let the dog out so she could do whatever she had to, rubbing his eyes and scratching at his lower back on the way.

It was an ‘early morning’ for him considering how late he went to bed – and he was not one to fall back asleep after waking up a first time. He would, sadly, have to deal with it. Maybe making himself a bigger breakfast than usual would wake him up a bit more.

By noon, waffles were on the way, bacon was ready and on his plate, fruit had been cut and added to a small bowl, eggs and sausage were almost done and a cup of hot coffee was already half drunk. Opening the doors that separated the living room from the kitchen, Jesse went to fetch the TV remote and flipped it over to the news. He let Moxie back inside when she scratched at the glass door, and was about to check on his waffles when something caught his attention on TV.

He knew those eyes.

He also knew those sharp features, those cheekbones, that nose. He had become acquainted with those lips just last night.

And he did not expect seeing them on the news, along with an emergency contact number.

The smell of burnt waffle reached him from the kitchen.

Jesse did not quite catch what the news reporter said, the fire alarm going off as the lady spoke. He remembered the voice he had heard on the radio, screaming for help. He knew that voice, who it belonged to. They had parted ways early in the morning.

On the screen, the letters were white on a red background.

 _Anyone with information is urged to contact the Wasau Police Department._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's chapter three!  
> I am sorry for not finishing this fic before Halloween as I said I would, but life happened and I had stuff related to me maybe getting a better job happen so it took quite a lot of my time ;v; wish me luck you guys aaah ;v; Anyway, it's not like Halloween ends with October 31st. There's always like. 3 more weeks of Halloween before everyone gets all jolly and holiday-y, right?
> 
> A big thanks to everyone leaving kudos and comments, you seriously make my day every time!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I started this fic, I thought it would be perfect to post it all before Halloween just to keep it all in the spooky theme of the month. However, life happened, and I am now posting this one at the beginning of winter. The holidays might be upon us, but let's not forget that winter is a season with its own grim connotations. While October is the month of fright, the winter months carry another kind of fear. Think of the cold silence, of the sound of iced-over branches cracking, and the faint whisper of the wind. Horror can take many forms, and to me, one of the deepest fears I carry is seeing footsteps in the fresh snow that fell overnight, leading to the patio door that opens on our backyard and back. 
> 
> On that note, big thanks for coming along in this adventure of 'Xie gets back into writing', and see you on the other side!

_Anyone with information is urged to contact the Wasau Police Department._

Jesse felt his mouth go dry, despite the amount of coffee he had downed minutes ago. Moxie barked at the fire alarm, smoke billowed in the kitchen, and the face of a man he had kissed was on TV, attached to that one ominous sentence. The next seconds he spent in a daze, unplugging the waffle iron and waving a dishcloth at the smoke detector to silence it. His attention was focused on the TV, the announcement flashing again as the show host read it aloud.

Asian male, late thirties, five foot eight, muscular build, dark hair and eyes, last seen wearing a white and blue letterman jacket and jeans, driving a black rental car.

 

_If you have seen this man or have information, please contact the WPD at the following number._

Staring at the screen, Jesse barely felt when Moxie rested her paws on his thigh, standing up on her hind legs and looking at him with empathic concern. He sat on the couch and she hopped to his side, resting her head on his thigh. The pats she earned were mechanical, like an automated response.

Four days ago.

It didn’t make any sense.

Or it _did_ , and Jesse didn’t want to admit anything just yet.

They had met three nights prior, and every time he had dropped him off in a safe spot in the city.

Every time, Hanzo had vanished into thin air the minute Jesse looked away.

He had noticed. He did not want to think anything of it, but he had noticed.

The news report showed a map of the state forest, fading into shots that showed both the roads and the thick woods surrounding them. The scene changed again, showing a reporter on the side of one of the roads – cars behind her, other people huddled together in the cold autumn morning. The first person she interviewed was a woman dressed in a white wool jacket. Her blonde hair was pulled into a neat ponytail; the text that framed the bottom of the screen said ‘sister-in-law.’

“It is so unlike him, honestly…” She sounded worried, holding her hands clasped together in front of her chest. Other than that, she seemed to be containing herself with the habit of a professional. “He usually calls when he changes plans, but he does tend to get lost in his work sometimes. Very passionate about it, to the point where he sometimes stays away longer than intended, but–  We started getting worried when we didn’t hear from him after two days.”

Jesse felt his heart sink into his chest, followed by the same feeling that had been nagging him the previous nights. Something didn’t quite feel right: if Hanzo had tried to run away from home or his family, he wouldn’t have seemed so dead set on coming back to the city. He would have gone the other way.

Behind the reporter, he could spot Jack and Gabe in their ranger uniforms chatting with police officers. Jack held a dog on a leash while his partner gestured at parts of the woods, probably explaining the layout to help with the search.

_They’re not in the right area._

Another man appeared on screen, and Jesse did not even need to read anything to guess that this guy was the brother –  Genji, the cowboy remembered -- Hanzo mentioned before. His washed-out green hair made his dark roots even more visible, and his jaw had a softer angle, but he could not deny family ties with his missing brother. Not with those eyes and those high cheekbones. The skin around Genji’s eyes was red and puffy.

“Look, we don’t get too worried when he leaves for two days in a row, but he calls, he always calls, sometimes it’s even annoying. He said he was going to the forest to take pictures, and we went to visit friends in the meantime, and he… he was supposed to come back and sleep at their place with us . Hanzo wouldn’t leave; he can be kind of a dick but he wouldn’t up and leave like that…” He sniffled and frowned, straightening up as Jack stepped into the frame. The blonde woman who was previously interviewed put a hand on Genji’s shoulder and gently pulled him away.

All professional and almost soldier-like, Jack held a conversation with the reporter, explaining that people most often got lost not too far from a trail, but that their decisions in trying to find their way back dragged them further into the woods. He proceeded to explain that another rescue team was on the way and that they would soon finish organizing an operation to search the forest through and through.

_They’re not in the right area_ , thought Jesse again, and for a moment he thought about calling the police department. He grabbed his phone, started dialing.

Interrupted himself.

What would he say? Oh hey, I actually drove your guy back to Wasau three nights in a row and whenever he left he was nowhere to be seen seconds after? By the way, you guys are at the wrong mile? That sounded suspicious as hell. Even more suspicious would be to just leave a cryptic message and hang up.

There was another option. It was stupid and impulsive, and most probably a bad idea.

Jesse got up and grabbed his boots – he had a long ride ahead of him.

 

**

 

Putting the leash on Moxie had been easy. Bringing her outside was also easy: she loved car rides and always hopped in as soon as the door was open. She even had her spot on the passenger’s seat.

Or at least, she usually had her spot there.

As soon as she sniffed the seat before entering, getting her in the truck became one of the hardest tasks Jesse ever had to accomplish. She barked and snarled at the leather seat, twisted herself away from her master when he tried to usher her up. She fought back when he picked her up, whining and crying loudly when he tried to have her sit in the truck. Whatever scent she had picked up, she did not want anything to do with it.

Letting her down with a sigh, Jesse almost abandoned all hope of bringing her along when she hopped in of her own accord – on the backseat, making her way across it until she sat on the driver’s side. Moxie eyed the passenger’s seat warily , barked at it one last time and lied down.

Jesse hoped that she could pick up a trail or something, a hint of anything that would help her find some kind of tracks. He could then say he found something while hiking as an excuse, instead of telling a story about a hitchhiker that never made it home despite taking the ride three times. Gabe would probably not believe him – he could almost hear the snort and the mocking ‘you, hiking?’ – but it was not Gabe he had to convince.

If Hanzo truly had brought a car into the woods close to the spot where Jesse found him on the road, then the cowboy had an idea of which trail he took to make it in there. There was a small, hidden one where mostly ATVs and sometimes cars went – it led to a tiny clearing with a small hunting shack. While it was abandoned, it was a good place to set up camp. It was a little remote but easily accessible – and was a place known to the authorities because of some kids who used the spot for drug dealing back in the day.

Why weren’t they checking that place? Why were they so far off in their search for someone who wouldn’t be there?

Jesse pressed harder on the pedal – he would be there soon.

 

**

 

His truck was too big for the trail, so Jesse left it on the side of the road and opened the door for Moxie to hop out. She did so eagerly, tail wagging and sniffing along the edge of the asphalt as soon as she was on the ground. Jesse smiled at the heartwarming sight before looking back at the path that opened into the forest. With all the rain they had on the day before, tracks were hard to discern. There was still evidence that the trail had been used: some branches were broken, and the absence of grass in two parallel rows indicated that some vehicles had been coming and going through.

The air was cold; small clouds formed out of Jesse’s breath.

Once Moxie had satisfied her curiosity with the random scents she picked up from the side of the road, she came back and stood by her master’s leg. Jesse attached the leash to her collar, standing back up to grab his serape from the passenger’s  seat. There was a chance that it still smelled of Hanzo, and Moxie could try and find his scent. They played hide and seek back at home with objects he hid after having her smell them – never thought it would prove useful in the long run before.

Kneeling down so Moxie could sniff at the fabric of the serape, Jesse held it out towards her. The Boston terrier sniffed once, seemed to hesitate, sniffed again and, much to Jesse’s surprise, started growling. He tried again, insisting a bit more, and she let out a sharp bark at the garment, going as far as to try to bite it.

Maybe bringing her along wasn’t that much of a stroke of genius in the end.

Jesse sighed, shaking his head. So much for using Moxie’s superior sense of smell in order to find Hanzo. Dejected, he settled for taking her for a walk in the woods. If they found tracks, at least he could point the search parties to that area. …hell, he could even help along. Maybe it was the time spent driving with Hanzo at his side. Maybe it was the snark in his voice, or the memory of his lips. There was something that made him feel involved, something that made him feel like  calling to have someone else find Hanzo just wasn’t right.

Could a man who showed up three nights in a row on the side of the road really go missing?

Maybe he would be back tonight. So far, he hadn’t missed an occasion. He had been there regularly, as if he _knew_ Jesse would be there to pick him up.

It was somewhat disturbing, come to think of it.

A shiver ran through Jesse’s spine. The weather wouldn’t get any warmer with winter approaching. The more time he spent outside without moving, the colder he’d feel. Giving a short whistle for Moxie to follow, he stepped towards the trail, only to be stopped by a tugging at the end of the leash.

Breathing heavily, Moxie had her four legs stretched and pushing away from the direction Jesse wanted her to go. She resisted the leash’s pull with all the strength she could muster. Worse, she whimpered loudly when Jesse whistled a second time, refusing to move.

She had never behaved that way before.

She was the spunky but obedient kind. A good girl who gave licks full of love and who was always ready to play and go on adventures. Yet that one, she wanted nothing to do with.

Jesse let out a sigh. “Alright girlie, I gotcha.”

Walking back, he picked her up and put her onto the backseat of the truck. He went as far as to roll the window an inch down before starting the engine and turning the heat on. He could let it run a bit to keep Moxie warm while he went to check the woods. He’d only have to keep the remote control for the locks on his person.

“You be good. I’ll take a good, long walk with you when we’re home, and you can tell me how stupid I am. Deal?”

Giving her a couple pats on the head and ruffling her short fur one last time before closing the door, Jesse turned around and walked towards the path.

Moxie barked at him from the truck.

He would be back for her later.

 

**

 

The hike to the clearing was an easy one on foot. The terrain went on a lazy downward slope that stretched on, and there was only a turn or two before one would reach the clearing with the small hunter’s cabin. If one used a car, however, the path proved to be treacherous with numerous larger boulders and deep puddles of mud. A sedan could easily get stuck in those, which was why most of the people who went that way used ATVs or small sporty  jeeps.

The woods were thick around Jesse as he walked, thick enough that soon he couldn’t see his truck when he looked back. He had a can of cayenne pepper spray in case he ran into a bear, and had slipped his gun under the waistband of his pants just in case it was not enough.

The deeper into the woods he walked, the tenser Jesse felt – even with cold sunlight filtering through the pines. The air was chill and crisp, and light played on the fallen leaves. Hanzo probably would have had the time of his life taking pictures on a day like this. It didn’t keep Jesse from feeling as if the trees were closing in on him, getting tighter around him.

_Crack._

It came from the left, not exactly close to the path, but not far either. A few yards at most. Jesse found himself breathing faster, his heart beating rapidly  and slightly out of rhythm. Reason dictated that it was probably a raccoon or a fox. His gut instinct told him to run back to the truck, that it was not a fox, that there were eyes watching from a distance that was too close for comfort. Freezing was not the best course of action, yet there he was, stopped in his tracks and staring into the woods.

Nothing.

Nothing but the soft afternoon breeze blowing through the pine branches.

A feeling of unease crept upon him, but Jesse brushed it off before it could dig its claws into his chest. He was in the forest. Of course the woods would creak around him. And if there was really a bear out to try and take a bite at his ass, that animal would be in for a bad day. 

There was nothing a bit of pepper spray and a couple bullets couldn’t solve in these parts.

 

**

 

It took Jesse the better part of an hour before he reached the clearing where he thought Hanzo had parked his car. The trail widened, dirt becoming more packed, the tire trails harder to see. Grass grew in a spotty pattern in the clearing, denser in the middle part where the pine needles didn’t make the soil too acidic for it to grow there. The small shack was built on one of the sides of the clearing. There were windows on three of its walls and the front had a door that would have been a bright red if the years hadn’t discolored it to a sun-bleached pink.

Parked closer to the other end of the clearing was a black sedan. Jesse spotted the remains of mud splattered close to the wheels, and deep, slowly drying puddles of mud under the tires. Without any kind of traction aid, getting the car out of that spot would ask for at least a man or two pushing while another pressed the gas pedal.

No sign of a living soul so far, however.

Walking into the clearing, Jesse put his hands in a loose cone around his mouth and called.

“Hanzo?”

Silence.

Even the breeze felt quieter that deep into the woods.

Jesse called again, twice, as he walked towards the car. The rain had washed away most tracks, but he still spotted places where three holes were made in the ground in a triangular pattern. Surely Hanzo had used a tripod and made sure it wouldn’t move from its spot. The cowboy walked around the clearing, finding the car doors locked. Figured. Small town people could sleep with their doors unlocked sometimes, but city folks tended to lock each and every security system they found.

Or not.

The door to the shack was slightly ajar, something he couldn’t have seen until he had been closer. The feeling crept towards him again, making him bite on his lower lip as he walked towards the small cabin. Was it breaking and entering if no one had claimed the place in a long time?

What if there was a body in there?

What if something was waiting inside, hiding from sight, ready to slither out with long limbs and hands that caught onto dead carcasses and dragged them off the road?

What if something was watching with those eyes he saw in his dreams? What if it was just standing there, waiting for him to make the first move?

The inside of the cabin was dark, with no light filtering through the window that was by the door. If something was watching, Jesse would’ve caught movement. A shadow. Anything.

He stepped towards the small building, his heart beating so hard in his chest he thought it would crawl up his throat and jump out of his mouth at any given moment. His right hand was on his gun, holding it tight as he closed in, leaning against the wall and listening.

Quiet. There was no sound coming from the inside.

A kick to the door made it swing open, allowing the light of the afternoon sun to enter. Jesse pulled his gun out from under his belt and held it in front of him. The soft breeze brushed the back of his neck. His hands gripped tighter around the firearm, trying to steady his shaking hold. He could hear the sound of his own breath, ragged beyond reason.

No one, there was no one. Not a body, not a soul, not a _something_.

Although there was not _nothing_. 

Old, mismatched kitchen furniture was set up at the back of the single room, along with a musty bed roll that probably had been stuffed under the table twenty something years ago. Bags containing p hotography equipment had been neatly piled in a corner. From the doorway, there were a couple tracks of dried mud, like the silent testimony that confirmed Hanzo had been there.

The  afternoon sunlight came through the door, reflecting on the dust that floated in the air like a thousand specks of gold.

Jesse reached for the bags, feeling their rough texture under his fingers. They were supple and dry; clearly, they hadn’t spent the last night outside. Under the material, Jesse recognized the shape of a tripod, spare batteries, a couple umbrellas and other light reflecting panels. Most of the other stuff was unknown to him. The camera was nowhere to be found. After a little more digging, he found a duffel bag containing a change of clothes, car keys, a dead cell phone and a palm-sized voice recorder. It took Jesse a couple seconds of fiddling with it before he managed to make it work, rewinding all the way to the first entry.

The voice on the recording was unmistakably Hanzo’s, deep and rich – yet somewhat detached as he noted. “0023 – color correct in Photoshop. Maybe make the leaves look more saturated in color.” A click, then the voice resumed. “0029 – keep the original, make a black and white copy.”

It went on and on. Annotations on one picture or another, corrections to be made, effects that could look interesting. Jesse absentmindedly ruffled through the bag’s other compartments, finding a notebook along with a neatly folded stack of printed news articles. 1952. 1959. 1961.

Sightings.

  1. 1966\. 1967, twice. 1969. 1970.



According to what the newspaper clippings announced, Hanzo had been downplaying some numbers when talking to him.

  1. 1991\. 1992.



_One or two missing people my ass._

2002.

Those made at least six.

“0231. There’s a blur, but it’s there. I need a better shot.”

Jesse felt his hair rise on the back of his neck. A knot formed in his throat. Hanzo’s voice was down to a whisper trickling out of the small device in his hand.

“0233. The squirrel in the picture seems nervous.” A pause. “0234. You can see a shape, but there’s too much left to supposition. It could be anything, I need another shot.”

The recording scratched a little. Jesse bit his lower lip and rested his back against the wall. He could feel the uneven wood planks press against him, a splinter trying to make its way through the fabric of his jeans.

“0235. The antlers… there, but I cannot make …ther details. Could be mistak… a deer.”

Another pause, without a clicking sound. There was the sound of static getting stronger; Jesse was having a hard time making out the words.

“… there. ….atching something. …an’t let it s… me. …od, _I need that shot_ …”

_Crack._

Jesse jumped out of his skin as he looked up to the window on the opposite wall, certain he caught a dark shape _moving_ outside. Squeezed in his elbow, the recorder spat a bit more static before going silent. He couldn’t hear anything but his own breath, which he tried to keep still under his hand. He had to get out. _There was only one door, and he had to get out._

And whatever was out there knew that for a fact as well.

Nausea came creeping up his chest and throat as he eyed the slightly ajar door. The outside light was turning to a paler yellow as the sun started hiding behind the tree line. It glinted off a nearby object on the ground, barely outside the cabin – and Jesse hated himself for not catching sight of it earlier. He did not need it spelled out for him – the crushed black pieces, the broken glass reflecting the dying light of day, the torn and muddy strap.

Jesse fought to keep the remainder of his meal in his stomach as the sickly smell of rotten eggs seeped into the room. His hand shook as he held his gun close to his chest and pressed himself against the wall.

He knew he was trapped, and so did the thing outside.

If he made it outside, he could make the run to his truck in half the time he took getting there, uphill or not. He’d get to his truck. Move out of state with Moxie. Change his name, and drink to forget whatever happened during his last fall in the Flambeau River area.

The feeling of being watched was unbearable, making his skin crawl. His mouth ran dry, and he felt the bite of a splinter piercing his left hand as he pressed himself tighter against the wall.

He tried to steady his breath, without much success. _Come on, Jesse. You gotta walk out of here. The longer you stay, the more you’ll steep in your own piss before getting out._

Not that he had pissed himself yet. Maybe he was just keeping it for later as a last resort defense mechanism. 

_Come on, Jesse. It’s now or never._

He had a weapon. He would be alright.

Gathering whatever was left of his courage, Jesse pushed himself off the wall and stumbled out into the clearing.

Nothing.

Somehow it was more unnerving than if he had come face to face with… Whatever that thing was.

Antlers McFuckface, for all he cared.

Gun in hand, Jesse carefully covered the ground to the entrance of the clearing. The closer he got, the readier he was for something to jump at him. The smell was still pungent as he walked stiffly away from the cabin. He could not run, fearing that it would trigger whatever chasing instincts the thing had.

It was there, somewhere. He just couldn’t see it. Maybe it was waiting a bit ahead of him, further down the path. Maybe it had stopped by his truck first and followed the trail down there. God, he hoped Moxie was safe…

Passing the clearing’s entrance felt like a milestone that took forever to come. It was a claustrophobic experience, with the forest so close to him on both sides of the trail. He felt relieved at the same time, as if he was already almost all the way back to his truck – which was far from truth.

Only when he was almost out of sight of the clearing did he turn around to give it a last look.

There was nothing directly behind him. A sigh of relief escaped his lips, and Jesse suddenly felt like laughing at his own fright.

Said laughter remained stuck in his throat, as he caught sight of the dark form behind the shack.

Antlers. Long, sinewy legs. Eyes that watched.

And watch it did, intently so, unmoving in the shadow of the wall.

Jesse turned and ran. He didn’t need to look back to know it gave chase. The excited chirping behind him was telltale.

 

**

 

The last couple days felt like a daze to Hanzo. He remembered the woods vaguely, and the pictures he took looked alien to him, as if someone else had taken them. He came to these woods to take pictures of the wildlife and flora, and to track down the creature that roamed that part of the woods. The rest was a blur, a bit like a dream. Details became foggy, and he felt constantly cold.

The one steady thing that came was night, and with night came hitchhiking. With hitchhiking came a big red truck, warm seats, country music and good company for a bit over an hour.

Hanzo felt strongly for the man driving the truck. It was as if Jesse’s presence brought clarity. Moments were crisp and precise again, every minute a clear memory. The cowboy had a warm voice and there was something soothing about him. Hanzo did not believe in love at first sight, but… Fondness at first sight was plausible. Ish.

Every time he would leave for the night time blurred again. He remembered leaving the warmth of the truck for the cold streets of Wasau, then everything faded into the next night.

And like the night before, he would hitchhike because no one came to pick him up after his car got stuck. His phone never seemed to work. At least there were people still driving around at ungodly hours.

It seemed like Jesse was running late tonight, however. Hanzo closed his arms around his chest as he waited, trying to rub some warmth into his arms. Any minute now, there would be the headlights of the truck, and he would welcome the warmth and the company. Last time they spoke, they had agreed on going out for coffee. Was it a date? Should he call it a date?

… should he even get that excited over a coffee date at his age? He was not a high schooler anymore.

A rustle in the bush nearby made him jump, and he felt a surge go through his whole body. Memories cleared for a moment, the fog dissipating as he remembered the antlers, the legs, the teeth o _h god so many teeth his calls for help going unanswered the feeling of clammy hands on him help send help—_

Jesse walked out of the woods, hat on his head, serape around his frame. A true vision straight out of a western.

Hanzo couldn’t help but squint, tilting his head slightly.

“You picked a weird hour to go hiking through the woods, cowboy,” he started, trying not to sound too concerned. The shivers going down his spine announced nothing good.

Jesse looked back at him, and for a moment Hanzo felt like something was off.

“I’m on foot tonight. Sucks, amirite?”

This was not how things were supposed to be.

“On foot? You’re kidding, right? There’s no way you’re on foot.”

He was tempted to reach for the other man, to shake him in order to make him feel sorry for the bad joke. Yet Hanzo had a feeling he would find no warmth under his touch.

Like him.

Just like him.

Jesse looked at him, a worried smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Hanzo tried to ignore the sudden taste of ash in his mouth as he watched the other man walking closer to the side of the road.

“So, that’s how you do it? You lift your arm and you put your thumb up whenever someone drives by?”

Hanzo swallowed the knot that had been building up in his throat and nodded.

“Yeah. That’s how you do it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, HUGE thanks to Soap, who beta'd the whole thing and who powered through all my language mishaps (we all know there was an awful lot).   
> And if you made it here, thank you for reading as well! :3c

**Author's Note:**

> Ayyyy it's been ages since I wrote anything and I hope I'll get back into the groove of things to deliver that spoop month fic!  
> Huge thanks to Wyntera and Sidd for giving me their thoughts on this fic and for their patience while I rambled about it ;v;  
> Also props to Soapasaurus @ tumblr who is a wonderful beta reader who went through all my second language mishaps with the patience of a saint!  
>   
> ALSO YOU GUYS. 2:30 AM HAS FANART OMG thank you so much ;v; Look at that animation aaahhhh  
> [Art by jellyfishnerdartist](http://pinesdweller.tumblr.com/post/166509698132/needshea1ing-jellyfishnerdartist-originally)  
> [Art by robosthetique](https://robosthetique.tumblr.com/post/173902771893/i-uh-really-love-that-230am-mchanzo-fic-by-xiee)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[PODFIC] 2:30 AM](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16482092) by [sksNinja](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sksNinja/pseuds/sksNinja)




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